Chapter 6
[ITEM DIGESTED]
[ITEM CANNOT BE FURTHER IMPROVED]
"Blyat." As he had planned, Nikolai went to improve his armor, and after devouring twenty-five pieces, the mist informed him that further enhancement was impossible. A bit disappointed, he hoped the current improvements were worth the effort.
Summoning the armor, the mist encased his entire body and formed the armour on him. He stood before a long, cracked mirror and admired the changes. He struck a few ridiculous poses. Despite his sour mood, a grin crept across his face. The armor looked badass. The chainmail shirt had become thicker and heavier, yet surprisingly comfortable. Shoulder guards, salvaged from the giant undead he'd slain a week ago, had initially seemed too massive, but the mist had resized them perfectly to fit his frame. His gauntlets, which the mist thankfully recognized as armor, covered his forearms and fingers, leaving only his palms bare for better grip.
Then came the helmet.
"Hehe... I look cool."
It was skull-like in design, bolted with two iron bands—one across the forehead and another running vertically above the eye sockets. Chainmail draped down from the helmet, covering his neck and shoulders. Two curved horns jutted out from the sides, giving him an appearance that was equal parts monstrous and majestic. The color scheme, a mix of pitch-black and iron grey, lent a grim presence. It gave off an aura of death. Creepy? Sure. But he liked it that way. Who was around to judge him, anyway? The only company he kept came at night, clawing through the woods with groans and howls. They also didn't spare time to chat... As if that was possible.
Moving on, Curse magic was the next subject that intrigued him. Unlike the Undead Will spell, where he could just cast it and it took immediate effect, or the other flashy elemental magic spells that he imagined to look like in his mind, curses had a raw, primal feel. The process was disturbingly simple:
1. The Caster.
2. The Victim.
The effects took hold the moment physical contact was made. Powering a curse required magic and intent. While magic activates the curse, it was strong emotion that amplified the effect—rage made GRIP stronger, and greed fueled MAGIC DRAIN. With that said, rage was enough to empower the effects two curses, if not better than greed.
But there was a catch: the UNDEAD WILL spell, which dulled all emotions, also weakened his curses.
So, he decided to stop using it during fights. Pain returned, sure, but the power and effects he gained from curse magic made the suffering worth it.
Since gaining the long chain from the giant Viking Zombie, he had incorporated a new fighting style with the chain, using it like a whip to strike his enemies while also using Curse Magic along with it. He soon realised that the curse magic could also extend its rage of influence with the length of the chain.
As he swings the chain and it is wrapped around the Undead, he casted GRIP. Curse magic encased the chain with dim grayish glow. The wrapped chain was stuck to the Undead with no way of removing it, unless Nikolai himself removes the curse himself.
On the matter of removing curses, from what limited knowledge of curses he had, it was just as simple as willing the curse to stop working. He then decided to make the action more badass by saying "Release" when he wants the curse to stop working.
The next few weeks passed uneventfully. A few giant undead wandered into his territory at night, but they were little more than walking loot now. Yes they were still bigger than him, but he was more nimble and with a variety of weapons along with curse magic, he made quick work of them.
---
{One Month Later}
"Thirty-five... thirty-six... thirty-seven..."
Sweat dripped from his brow as he did pull-ups with a thick log strapped to his back. He'd shifted to extreme workouts after his regular routine became laughably easy. Last week, he'd managed a hundred push-ups without breaking a sweat.
"Am I even human at this point?"
He blamed his newfound strength on three passives he'd unlocked.
[PASSIVES ARE UNLOCKED] [NEW PASSIVE: ORCISH REGENERATION*] [NEW PASSIVE: ORCISH PHYSIQUE*] [NEW PASSIVE: BLOODLUST*]
He had no idea what the word passive meant, but he kinda understood what they do. ORCISH REGENERATION, made it possible to naturally heal his injuries at a very fast rate. ORCISH PHYSIQUE, it seems that it made his body grow tougher and more muscular as time went by.
He was so excited when he saw more muscle mass on his body, but it had a downside.
He needed to eat meat regularly and that was cut from his diet for a day, he felt his body becoming sluggish, made him tired more easily.
It had taken three weeks of brutal battles with undead orcs to get them. These beasts were unlike the others—taller, stronger, faster, and overflowing with bloodlust.
They had a human like body, the difference between them and a human was that they have an ugly face, with large rotten fangs and short pointy ears. Their presence had been a rude awakening for Nikolai. He'd grown too comfortable fighting weaklings. The orcs forced him to improve or die.
And improve he did.
Their aggression and hate-fueled strength made them nearly impossible to deal with initially. Worse, they could emit killing intent, something he'd never felt from regular undead. It messed with his senses, made him panic, made him bleed.
On the bright side, they also dropped something new: Dane axes. Massive, brutal weapons that were quickly becoming his favorite.
"Fifty!"
Nikolai dropped to the ground, muscles burning, and unstrapped the log. He wiped sweat from his face, then summoned the Dane axe. The weapon glinted in the sunlight—long-handled, heavy-bladed, made for carnage.
The sledgehammer was still his second favorite. But the axe had flair. Devastation and style in one brutal package.
He looked around the homestead. The potato farm had been harvested and replanted. A deer carcass smoked on a rack nearby, its scent rich and mouthwatering.
With his newfound powers fucking him up for not eating meat, he had to get more active in hunting. But it should not really be a problem for the time being.
---
Night fell.
Six orcs emerged from the darkness of the forest, each brandishing a Dane axe.
ROAR!!!
The howl pierced the forest as they charged.
Nikolai calmly notched an arrow and fired. The arrowhead buried itself in the forehead of the lead orc—but it didn't slow down. It just got angrier.
Good. That was the plan.
It surged ahead of the others, swinging its axe to cleave him in two. Nikolai sidestepped. The axe buried itself in the dirt. In that moment, he summoned his round shield and slammed it into the orc's face.
Then came the chain. It snaked out, wrapping around the orc's neck. He activated GRIP. The chain tightened. The orc clawed at it, choking, but the chain was not comming loose.
Soon the others arrived with their weapons raised.
Without hesitation, Nikolai shoved the choking orc into the path of the oncoming axe storm. Five weapons tore into their unlucky kin.
He summoned the sledgehammer and slammed it into the orc's back, sending shockwaves through the group. The others stumbled and were disoriented. It was time to strike.
With a roar of effort, he brought the hammer down, shattering the kneecaps of one orc. It fell screaming. He pivoted, swinging sideways into another orc's abdomen, folding it in half. Then, using the momentum, he spun upwards and delivered a crushing blow to its skull. Bone exploded. Then finally with the sledge hammer raised high, he brought it downwards to the downed Orc with the shattered kneecaps, right on its skull.
The skull exploded with shards Bones and splashes of blood.
Just like a Mortal Kombat fatality.
The remaining Orcs came and brought An axe down at him. He blocked with the shield. But another slash from the side slammed into his ribs. The force sent him flying ten feet.
Pain screamed through his body.
He hadn't cast UNDEAD WILL. Every nerve was alive and screaming. But he needed emotion for curses to work.
He groaned. "Blyat."
The orcs circled him now, looking for weakness and Nikolai was putting up a gaurd ready for the Orcs to attack...
Silence fell.
. . . . .
ROAR!
The quiet shattered. An orc lunged from behind. Nikolai ducked. The overhead swing missed. He kicked behind the orc's knee, dropping it to the ground.
With a grunt, he summoned his sword and executed a clean slash, beheading the creature.
One left.
Before he could react, the last orc tackled him.
STOMP!
Its massive foot crushed his chest. His armor shattered into mist. Pain. So much pain. Ribs cracked under the pressure.
It raised its foot for another stomp.
He rolled.
Shield up, he blocked a savage overhead strike from a Dane axe. The force nearly destroyed the shield as it embedded itself on it.
He twisted the shield to remove the axehead from the shield and kicked the orc's knee. It staggered back. He used this opportunity to smash the shield's edge into its temple, send it flying to the ground with a thud.
Then—summoning the Dane axe—he slashed down with all his strength. The Orc tried to block the axe head with its arms, but the axehead choped through the orc's arms, the momentum did not stop as the axehead choped the Orc's face.
The corpse immediately stoped twitching.
Nikolai fell on his ass, breathing hard. Shirt off, he inspected the damage. Deep bruises marred his side and chest. The chainmail shirt had protected him from certain death and he was very thankful for it.
Then... He saw the power of the Orcish Regeneration working on full swing.
The bruises slowly faded in front of his very eyes. Orcish Regeneration was no joke. In ten minutes, he was good as new.
But his mind was restless. He had some time to himself to think about his current situation.
What was the mist? Why did it feed him powers? Why was it helping?
No answers. Only questions. Maybe one day he'd know. For now, he fed the mist the six new Dane axes.
[ITEM DIGESTED]
[ITEM CANNOT BE FURTHER IMPROVED]
With no weapons left to devour, he let it consume one of the dead orcs.
[ITEM DEVOURED] [DIGESTION TIME: 1 WEEK]
He sighed. "Gift in a week, huh."
He wished there was a way to speed it up.
---
A week passed in the blink of an eye. Fighting. Farming. Practicing. It all blurred.
[ITEM DIGESTED]
[NEW SPELL LEARNED: UNDEAD VISION]*
Undead were pitiful things. No souls. Just magic. Their hatred of the living came not from malice, but envy. They yearned for souls.
They believed devouring a body might let them steal a soul. But that was impossible. Souls weren't so easily claimed.
"UNDEAD VISION."
He cast the spell.
. . . . .
His vision shifted.
In his sight, the world became black and white.
Everything was dull—except for the flames.
Tiny flames, like candlelights, flickered inside every living creature his gaze had set upon.
He spotted one in a grasshopper that just a few distance away from where he stood. Its flame was soo... Small.... And fragile.
He caught the bug. And as he was admiring the tiny flame inside the creature, he immediately recognised it as the creature's soul. He didn't know how he came into that conclusion, but it seems like a voice, barely a whisper spoke to him in his head, telling him that it was a soul.
'Weak and fragile... so weak and fragile... so weak and fragile...' but that voice crept inside his head, becoming louder and hypnotic.
The voice repeated, over and over and over and over...Till his hand moved on its own.
CRUNCH!
He crushed the bug.
The voice in his head chuckled. It was not just anykind of chuckle, it was not a creepy one. It was worse. It was sinister.
He looked at the crushed insect. It still twitched as it was barely alive. The flame inside it was trying to escape from the body. Not moments later the insect stopped moving... It was dead.
All of a sudden, the mist surfaced from his hand and encased the dead insect along with its flame. Nikolai was utterly confused at what the mist was trying to do.
It eventually showed him what it was trying to do... It devoured the flame.
[SOUL DEVOURED]
Nikolai stared at his hand. Silent.
He didn't know whether to be amazed or horrified.
Maybe both.